The Temple of the Spirit
by J. Idanian
Summary: A collection of one-shots about the characters we all know and love, showcasing some small parts of their eventful lives, past, present, and future. My take on who these people are and what they do. Please Read and Review.
1. What You Are In The Dark

A/N: Hello, here. You may remember me from such books as: The Southern Earth Kingdom And How To Avoid It, and The Complete History of Lumin: From Village to Vice. And of course, some small portion of you know me as the author of Scorched Earth, my OC Avatar story and one which I would greatly appreciate your input on, though in my opinion, the first ten chapters are the best and the rest are slowly being revised.

Anyway, to keep my readers happy while that's going on and to keep me from going crazy while working on my original novel, I've decided to begin posting a series of one-shots, whatever I feel like writing about in this excellent universe. Of course, feel free to make suggestions and if I like it, I'll write it. About the piece below: It seemed fairly obvious to me that Toph had feelings for Sokka, but he remained serenely oblivious. However, in the grand finale, she seemed perfectly okay with our favorite Water Tribe warrior being together with Suki. Something had to have happened and this is my take on what it was, or at least part of it. Maybe I'll feel inspired to write the other part later.

This is my first time working with the canon characters, so I hope you'll excuse any blatant OOC moments as merely inexperience. These characters are, like real people, very complex, and since I didn't create them, all I can do is guess about what's going on inside their heads. Thank you for reading and as always, enjoy the show.

* * *

Tears trickled from sightless green eyes to soak the summer grass, and quiet sobbing went unheard beside the endless crash of waves on white sand. The warm Ember Island night wrapped around the secluded cove, concealing its single occupant and her pain. Toph was angry. Her hands carved furrows in the earth as they clenched into fists and if she hadn't been so afraid of being seen like this, she would probably have sent the whole cliffside crumbling into the sea. She was angry at Suki for having the impudence to be alive-though that thought also made her feel sick with guilt. She was angry at Sokka for being even blinder than she was when it came to women. Most of all she was angry at herself, for in the end, she and only she was to blame for her state of despair. _I never said anything. I had all the time in the world and I never told him. And now I'll never be able to._

The next morning, if anyone noticed her eyes were rimmed with red beneath her bangs, they didn't dare to mention it. But they noticed the change in her attitude. The toughness was still there, but now it had jagged edges rather than the enthusiasm and sense of humor that they were used to. After she'd snapped at them for the tenth time, Aang finally asked her what the problem was.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," she answered sullenly, "I'm just in a bad mood today. It's a girl thing."

"That's what you said last week. I can't feel when people are lying like you can, but that seems kind of suspicious to me. Come on, tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help."

Toph fumed in silence for a moment. _Why can't he be like other boys and take the hint? But then he wouldn't be Twinkletoes, would he? So helpful it makes you sick sometimes._

"Really, it's nothing," she said, plastering a smile on her face. "I'm fine. Just...your earthbending needs a lot more work before you face the Fire Lord! If what I saw yesterday was the best you could do, then we're all screwed. So today I expect to see something better."

Aang smiled, seeming relieved.

"I'll try harder," he promised. "I'm just lucky to have a good teacher."

"Good? I'm the greatest teacher, Twinkletoes." But earthbending was far from the things on her mind.

It was that afternoon that things finally came to a head. And naturally, it was Suki that came to talk to her. Thanks the mortally embarrassing incident in the Serpent's Pass, she knew what it was that was eating at the earthbender.

"I think we need to talk," Suki said. "Is there a place around here we can speak privately?"

"Sure," Toph murmured. She had dreaded this moment, but it had to come sooner or later. _If I had any guts, I'd be the one calling her out. Even with this she's braver than I am._

She led the Kyoshi Warrior to the same isolated cove that only last night had hidden her shame, then turned to face her. Or, at least, her chest, as she only came up to Suki's shoulders.

"What is there to talk about?" she asked. "You won. He's yours now. Have a blast."

"Were we ever in a contest? Sokka never told me you were interested. And, no offense, but aren't you a little young to be thinking about these kinds of things?"

"That's because he's an idiot in a lot of ways," Toph snapped. "I'll bet you had to give his back teeth a tongue bath before he figured out what you were saying. And I'm only about three years younger than he is. If my parents admitted I exist, I'd have gotten marriage offers by now."

Suki blushed slightly, and by the hesitation before her reply, Toph knew she had hit the mark.

"He has his good points. But that's not what I came here to talk about. We need to be able to work together if we're going to survive the next fight. You need to tell him how you feel. That's the only way there'll ever be any end to this mess, for better or worse."

"Oh, is that all there is to it?" Toph said, her voice full of biting sarcasm. "Why didn't you just say so? Oh, right, because when I get shot down, you'll have an excuse to claim it's over."

"If you won't tell him, I will."

"No!"

"Then do it yourself! I don't much care for the idea of having you always looking over my shoulder and hating it whenever you see us together. And rest assured, this has inspired me to talk to him about whatever other women he may not have told me about. I don't like being left in the dark any more than you."

"Funny, that wasn't how it seemed to me back before Zuko and Katara left," Toph retorted. "I could feel _everything_ going on in that tent." It was a cheap shot and they both knew it.

"If that's all you want out of a relationship, you've got even more issues than I thought. _Please_ talk to him, as a favor to me."

Toph stood up as tall as she could, her shoulders set.

"All right," she said, sounding resolved to some grim task. "I'll do it. But you owe me _big time_."

"For my peace of mind, trust me, it's worth it. I'd like us to be friends. Do you think, just maybe, we can do that?"

Toph sighed.

"I hope so. But I don't know. I just...I don't know."

The two girls set off towards the house. They walked in silence.


	2. Tempering

A/N: Jeong Jeong has always been one of my favorite minor characters, seeming to hate being a firebender despite being really good at it. And there's a lot we don't know about him. But obviously he's changed when they meet him again in the finale. So this is my take on what happened after Ozai's defeat.

* * *

It seemed so long ago that the Avatar had come to him, seeking to be trained in an art for which he was not ready. So long since his utter failure as a teacher, a failure which had nearly cost the boy's friend a great deal. So long since he was brutally reminded of why he had retreated into self-imposed isolation. Now, the old firebender found it impossible not to marvel at how much had changed from then to now, at how much even he had changed. _There was a time when I would have scorned to answer a call to arms, yet I killed many of my own countrymen at Ba Sing Se_. He sighed. _And now the cycle repeats. Once again, I do my best to keep company only with those I care to and once again those I do not care to meet seek me out. Such is the way of the world, to travel in circles_.

As was his custom, he had gotten up before dawn, that he might sit and watch the sunrise. _That much good comes with age_, he reflected. _I sleep less than I used to_. He sat, cross-legged, on the eastern roof of his new school, still smelling of cut wood, chiseled stone, paint, and varnish, gazing out at the rising sun. Or rather, at where the sun would have been were there not a cloud bank in the way. _A grey day ahead. How fitting_. He glanced over at the person sitting next to him, half expecting a complaint about the pointlessness of the exercise, but the young student remained still, the candle in front of her flaring with each outbreath.

After the day had fully broken, Jeong Jeong extinguished his own candle with the wave of a hand and turned to face his pupil. _She is of the new generation. Arrogant and reckless, still fancying themselves the rulers of the world. If she can learn the true way of firebending, perhaps there is hope that this time, there will be more humans than savages among our kind._

"Fire brings only destruction and pain," he said abruptly. "Is that not so? Or do you think you know better than your master?

"No and no," she answered slowly, thinking carefully. "We use fire for a lot of good things."

He grunted in approval. _She is not afraid to speak her mind and her points have merit. Good._

"Anyone with spark-sticks can use fire for something good. What good is _firebending_ if not to destroy? Airbenders can fly, waterbenders can heal, earthbenders can build. What can you do with firebending that compares? What good does unleashing a fire blast do anyone?"

Surprisingly, in the face of his ire, his student kept her calm for the most part as she struggled to come up with a reply.

"Sometimes you have to destroy in order to create," she said at last. "There are plants that only bloom after there's been a fire. Isn't that kind of like creating?"

"Then you admit the essential nature of firebending is to destroy and consume."

"No, no that's not what it is?"

"Why not, then?"

"We can use it to protect what we care about, to preserve."

"By destroying that which threatens it."

"We can make art!" Despite the scowl on his face, she refused to take back her words.

"Yes," Jeong Jeong agreed, quiet once more. "We can. That is what firebending is, an art and a tool. It's most prominent uses are destructive, but as in anything, there is a balance. Simply because it is easier to destroy with fire does not mean it is correct to do. True mastery comes from discipline and control. No doubt you have not learned this."

"No," she admitted, ashamed at her lack of knowledge. "They told us that power in firebending came from emotion and willpower, in breaking free of your limitations."

"I feared as much. And do you believe that? Do you believe it is our right to do as we please? Are we not wielders of the superior element?"

"Well...I've seen some impressive displays of power from students taught that way. But no, I stopped believing about rights and superiority and other shit like that after I was burned." Jeong Jeong had seen her scars, twisted red ribbons that clawed across her back and shoulder. They gave her a slight but noticeable stiffness on her left side and even now could be seen, peeking out of her sleeve.

"I imagine you have. And could any of these students do anything other than harm with their abilities?"

"I don't think so...no."

"That is the danger that all firebenders face. We walk a blade's edge all our lives. On one side, there is uncontrolled power and all that it implies. On the other, the terrible burden of controlling our element so that it does as little harm as possible. It is not an easy struggle...in the end, we are torn apart. We either fall into savagery, as most of the Fire Nation has done, glorying in unleashed power like bullying children, or in retaining our humanity, lose whatever joy we might find in our art. Always, we must be in control."

"Is it really that bad?" his student asked in hushed tones. He could sense the growing fear and despair within her.

"It was so for me. But...perhaps it need not be so for you. There is another master I know who disagrees. He claims that only someone who believes firebending is at its most effective at destruction would feel frustrated at having to control it. Perhaps if you believe that what it can create, preserve, and destroy in order to create are more powerful than simple destruction and pain, then you may find peace. Is that what you believe?"

"Even if it's not true, I'd rather believe it than anything else. I want to learn an art, not a way to hurt people. I've seen too many friends get hurt already."

For the first time in weeks, Jeong Jeong smiled. _One strong mind, willing to reject the false teachings of Ozai and his era is all I need. And where there is one, there must be more. I owe the Avatar a great deal, it seems. Iroh as well. I can afford to trust in something again._

"Then I accept you as my student, Tsuya."


	3. Tall Tales

A/N: It was really a struggle to find a scene involving Sokka. His eccentric nature isn't something that easily lends itself to inspiration to me. But then I thought he'd make a perfect fit for the tale-teller in Desperado. And from there on, this shameless little chapter wrote itself. That being said, I think it's a bit weak and I'll try and do better next time. Maybe something with Zuko.

* * *

The seaside tavern seemed to leech away any hint of happiness. The drinks were bad, the food was worse, and the customers would have appalled the lower-level jailers of the Boiling Rock. The location only contributed to the image, being right next to the industrial quarter of the Fire Nation capital, downwind of most of the fumes, and with one of the main waste pipelines emptying next to it, turning the water the same dead grey as the iron all around. There were many who wondered how on earth the place managed to stay in business. The answer was: It didn't. But then, it also wasn't a real tavern.

It was because of this that, when someone pushed open the door, which squealed on rusty hinges, and stepped in, everyone turned to look, making sure it was someone who was supposed to be there. It wasn't, and within seconds every hand in the place was touching the grip of a weapon. But the newcomer, a young man carrying a sword on his back and wearing a ridiculous-looking fake beard, looked so clueless as to the danger he was in, it was silently decided that he was an idiot who had come down here on a bet, and the entertainment of the night was settled on in a like fashion.

The stranger did his best to swagger up to the bar, to the accompaniment of quiet snickering at his failure, and sat down.

Rapping his knuckles on the bar top, he demanded, "Hey, can I get some service here?"

The bartender, a scarred veteran of the war that openly bore a big club, studded with iron spikes, eyed him with a smirk, showing off yellowed teeth.

"This is an exclusive club," he answered in a sarcastic rasp, "We don't serve just anybody. Who might you be?"

The stranger stroked his beard pretentiously.

"Fire. Wang Fire. And if it's exclusivity you're after, I may be the only survivor of that massacre last night at the Firefly Inn."

The mention of that name provoked an intense interest among the patrons, all of whom either turned to look or suddenly began listening intently. That attack had taken out some good men of theirs, including a higher-up official, a relative of the boss, and any information about that was of immense value.

The bartender suddenly became much more amiable, bringing over some of the place's actual wine instead of the stuff they gave whatever other fools wandered in and used to keep up appearances.

"Really? I'd heard about that. What happened?"

'Wang' took a swallow, catching some of it in his beard and trying not to draw attention to it, and began his story in a rambling, gregarious fashion, clearly enjoying the attention.

"Well, as you might know, the Firefly was a place a lot like this, only a bit of a dive, if you know what I mean. Lots of criminals around, a lot of shady dealings. They weren't exactly advertising it, but there weren't being too quiet about it either. Lots of...shall I say, _scum_, not like you fine upstanding gentlemen."

There was a murmur of discontent at that, but it was outweighed by the interest of all involved. Undaunted or either unnoticing, the stranger continued talking.

"So I was just sitting in the corner, minding my own business, when the door swings open and in walks the biggest damn woman I've ever seen. Seriously, she was like two ordinary people stacked on top of each other. She walks slowly towards the bar, and she's wearing a cloak with the hood pulled up so you can't see her face. Every time it looked like the lantern light was going to do it...it didn't. It was as if the lights dimmed just for her and that black cloak." A note pf puzzlement entered his voice. "And you know it was the strangest thing, she was carrying a _guqin_ case under her arm and when she sits down, she props it up on the stool next to her, like it was her boyfriend."

The patrons snickered, but were cowed by Wang's next words.

"Oh, you think that's funny. Yeah, so did I at the time. That's because I had no idea what she was going to do with it. By the way, can I get a clean cup here?"

The bartender snorted.

"That's the cleanest one I've got.."

Wang shrugged, taking another long drink.

"Ah, no problem, it's just good to be alive, really. So, being as there were all these scum in the place, she starts talking with the closest ones. I couldn't really make out their conversation, but I did pick up a name. Let's see, I think it was...Hizoku?"

There was an audible intake of breath from many people. That was the boss, currently residing in this very building.

"Yeah," Wang said, nodding, oblivious to the reaction, still with that same stupid grin on his face. "That was it, Hizoku. She seemed really interested in finding out about him, y'know? Hey, is he around? Maybe I should be telling this to him, it's kind of important and I've heard he's a good guy, really dedicated to bringing down Zuko and all that."

"Yeah, sure, I'll pass the word along," the bartender muttered, and retreated to the back room. A few minutes later, Hizoku strode in. He was a wiry man swathed in loose-fitting red robes with the bulge of armor visible under them in places. He didn't carry a weapon.

"I'm Hizoku," he said, "And you have my attention. Use it well."

Wang seemed excited at the meeting.

"Wow, you're a lot smaller than I thought," he remarked. "Can I have your autograph?"

Hizoku smirked.

"Maybe later. Keep talking, boy."

"Right. Well, either something went wrong or that woman didn't like what she was hearing, because all of a sudden, she turns, opens the _guqin_ case, pulls out two handfuls of throwing knives and just starts killing people. I dove for cover, but I could see what was going on. Everybody in the place gets up and tries to either get out or kill her but she's just tearing through them and it seems like there's no end of knives or shuriken in that damn case and anyone who gets close gets dead real fast. I felt sorry for the bartender, he got behind the bar at the first sign of trouble and never came back out."

"You're telling me a woman killed my cousin with knives?" Hizoku snarled.

Wang raised his hands.

"I'm just telling it like I saw it, pal. When the leader came out, he got one, _bam!_, right in the heart. Wasn't wearing armor, I guess. Then finally, when nobody's moving much anymore, she finds one still alive and leans down real close."

At this point everyone in the tavern had given up the charade and was leaning forward, listening with rapt attention. Hizoku's scowl could have burned through iron.

"She whispers to him a bit," Wang said, "More about the name Hizoku, and the guy says something back. Well, I guess it was what she was looking for, so she kills him too. Then she turns to me, laying there on the floor. I just...froze."

"You didn't run when she was killing everyone?" one thug asked incredulously. "I mean, not even now when she was coming for you?"

Wang shook his head.

"No, I just...I couldn't move. Scared stiff. Would've pissed myself but every muscle went dead. But apparently I wasn't really worth killing, because she turns and goes to leave."

"So the bartender lived," the man of the same occupation remarked. He chuckled ."The bartender always survives."

"You know," Wang remarked, "It's funny you should say that because on her way out, the bartender tries to blast her with fire and she pinned him to the wall through his throat and let him drown in his own blood." The other man went pale.

"Yeah," Wang continued, "the bartender got it worse than anyone. And well, I think she's coming this way."

"She's already here," a dry, slightly sarcastic voice answered from a corner table. A woman nobody had seen enter stood up, opening a lacquered wooden _guqin_ case and coming up with a lot of shiny, wicked-looking knives. She wore the same hooded black cloak as in the story and stood just as tall as the men present.

"It's her again!" Wang yelled in panic, his voice shrill. "She'll kill us all!"

Everyone in the tavern immediately made for the door, despite Hizoku's demands for them to stand and fight. Finally, with a curse, the boss grabbed the iron club from the bar and hefted it purposefully. The woman still hadn't done anything yet and Wang had frozen again.

"You got my cousin," he growled, "But you won't get me."

"This is the distraction," she said, and the suddenly not-frozen Wang Fire brought down the barstool he'd picked up down on Hizoku's head. The rebel crumpled to the floor.

Mai pushed back her hood and regarded Sokka with a sigh.

"So. Your plan worked. Hizoku came out instead of bolting through some secret passage. You can take off the beard now."

"Oh no, I can't, it's permanently glued to my skin," Sokka said, absurdly pleased with himself and stroking the length of hair imperiously. Then he relented and pulled it off with a grimace.

"All right, enough of that. It's starting to itch like crazy. Ha! Did you see their faces when you stood up? They were hanging on to my every word from when I first mentioned Hizoku's name."

Mai sniffed the air and winced.

"Yeah, congratulations .You got some of them to lose a little more control than I'd prefer. And now every _guqin_ player in the city is going to have to lay low for a month. What gave you the idea to use that thing, anyway?"

Sokka's grin widened, if that were possible.

"Come on! An assassin who carries around a musical instrument? How is that not amazing?"

"If anyone can find a way to make it not amazing, you can," she answered, a faint smile appearing at his crestfallen expression. "Oh, stop it. Help me get him out of here, they won't stay gone forever."

The two dragged Hizoku's body out into the streets, and the tavern fell silent. Then, slowly, the bartender stood up from where he'd taken cover, breathing a sigh of relief at his continued existence. Then the door swung open again and one of Mai's stilettos thunked into the wood by his neck. He fainted dead away.

Mai snickered to herself and stepped out again, fading into the night.


	4. Voices on the Wind I

A/N: Personally, I have a fondness for antiheros and other characters with inner turmoil, so Zuko was a little easier and more enjoyable to write for than Sokka. I may be inspired to continue this journey of his later, but just now I'm trying to get all the major characters at least once. So as always, I hope you enjoy the show and I appreciate all reviews as long as they're helpful.

* * *

The jungle was tangled and steamy, and filled with life. The air was so thick that it seemed as though it could be drunk and the cries of animals far and near never ceased. This island was truly vibrant. Or at least, some thought so. Others, not so much.

Zuko swung his sword like a machete, hacking away yet another trailing swath of leaves, branches, and vines, cursing the many things that had brought him here. He was careful to do most of it silently, lest his uncle give him yet another lecture on controlling his anger, but his hatred was all the greater for that. And it turned out that the red and black leather armor of the Fire Army was awful for the jungle, so he was sweating hard. His uncle, naturally, had thought of that and consequently was much more comfortable. Another sting to the prince's pride.

He was so busy in his thoughts and the repetitive motions of clearing a path that he completely missed the rustling of leaves that marked the approach of a predator. As he was raising his sword for yet another stroke, Iroh yelled for him to _get down_. Zuko promptly ducked, feeling the wind of the beast's passage as it pounced right where he'd been standing. Landing, it whirled about, cat-quick, and he saw what had almost gotten him. A tiger-snake, its sinuous body poised to strike again, fangs bared, claws out, and long, heavy tail lashing in agitation. It was wounded already, a deep gash in its shoulder that looked infected. All this he noticed in the instant before it dashed forward in a zigzag pattern, this time meaning to spring at him from where it was too close to dodge.

If it had been even a few months earlier, he would have been paralyzed with fear. But he'd seen and been in a few real fights and fell back on his training, on the basic moves that Iroh had been drilling into him day after day. A sidestep and advance preceded his attack, a fire blast that caught it in the flank and sent it reeling, tumbling across the jungle floor. Only a half-second afterwards, Iroh's attack, much more powerful, washed over it like a storm. When the flames died down, guttering away in the oppressive damp, all that was left of the mighty creature was a blackened ruin that filled the air with a terrible stench. Incredibly, horribly, it was still alive, one leg twitching in a meaningless attempt to move.

Lowering his guard, Zuko stared at it in a kind of sick fascination. He had never seen a creature, animal or human, so badly burned before. He stepped towards it slowly, drawn by some deep instinct. It looked up at him, the light in its green eyes weak and unfocused, and made a pitiful sound, a whimper that was as good as any words at conveying a message. _Mercy._ Zuko became aware of the sword still in his hand and Iroh's presence beside him.

"You know what has to be done," his uncle said. "But if you want, I can do it."

"What, you think I can't do it?" Zuko snapped, unable to conceal how shaken he was. The retort had none of its usual force or contempt. "I'm strong enough."

"It isn't strength you need," Iroh corrected him gently. "It's kindness."

"If that's the case, let it die and good riddance! It certainly wasn't a kindness to try and rip my throat out!" He tried and failed to storm off, instead halting in his tracks as the tiger-snake whined again.

"You speak as though being kind is a bad thing," Iroh remarked.

"Why should I show kindness to my enemies when they show none to me?" Zuko asked. In truth, he was desperately searching for a way to do as Iroh said without seeming weak. He knew what weakness brought. Even looking at the animal's burns made the scar that stretched across one side of his head ache sympathetically.

"You just answered your own question," Iroh said, to Zuko's great consternation. Seeing the look on his nephew's face, the old firebender continued, "It's because they don't show any mercy that you should. It makes you better than them. There is no honor in tormenting a fallen enemy. That is something your sister, for all her skill, has yet to understand."

The mention of a weakness in Azula, always the prodigy, had Zuko's full attention, and he considered his uncle's words. It was a difficult concept to grasp...the idea that being merciful and being weak weren't the same thing. Kindness, after all, was what had gotten him banished in the first place. And there was still the suspicion that even here, even now, his father would know what he'd done.

"You can't live in fear of him forever, Zuko," Iroh said quietly, sensing the direction of the prince's thoughts.

Finally, Zuko said, "I'm not doing this because I feel merciful, I'm doing it because only a fool leaves his enemies alive."

"Of course," Iroh agreed. Zuko could tell he wasn't fooled for a minute. The young prince, despite himself, had taken an interest in the idea. He grasped the hilt of his sword with both hands, inhaled sharply, then brought it down. The tiger-snake went limp in death, the light fading from its eyes. He felt...better for doing that, even while knowing his father would have disapproved. _He doesn't like it, fine. He can't do anything to me that he hasn't done already. He ought to appreciate me for having the guts to do what I want_.

Wrenching the blade free and wiping it off on the nearest fern, he gestured for Iroh to follow him again, and resumed hacking at the underbrush.

"Come on, we need to pick up the pace if we're going to make it to the Air Temple and back before supplies run out."

He didn't see Iroh's smile, but he heard it in his uncle's voice.

"Not to worry. I have enough tea leaves to last us the whole way."


	5. Sacrifices I

A/N: No, I'm not dead, just busy and lazy at in regular intervals. Busy because I'm looking for a job, lazy because I'm out of school and have nothing else to do, aside from working on my original novel. However, I still mean to finish Scorched Earth and do some more one-shots here, so, do not panic. This story deals with one of my favorite minor characters, Lieutenant Ji from Zuko's old crew. Yes, I know that may not be how you spell it, but I prefer the name that way. He's still a lieutenant at what must be a fairly advanced age and he's stuck with Zuko for however long it takes to capture the Avatar, so I figure there has to be some compelling reason as to why he's even there. That's one of the main things I like when writing about this show, doing my own interpretations on things. So, this is his story according to me. I may do another one about the aftermath of the Siege of the North, later.

* * *

In the perpetual twilight of the south pole winter, the freezing wind screamed across the ice-choked sea, piercing everything, whispering in the ears of every Fire Nation man that dared brave these waters one ceaseless message. _You are not welcome here._ The battered old Fire Nation patrol ship _Hidden Fire Beyond the Rain_ plowed through the rolling waters, raising a great white fountain upon hitting each blue-black swell. The ironclad warship seemed very small against the steel-grey sky and the emptiness of the open ocean. The sailors were either huddled below deck, gathered around any source of warmth they could find, or slowly freezing up top as they kept the ship running, cursing their ill fortune.

Only one man braved the biting, salty sea air willingly, even bundled up in a heavy, fur-trimmed cloak. He leaned against the starboard rail near the prow, staring south at the great ice sheets of the southern continent and the drifting icebergs that made these waters treacherous to sail. He was reminded of huge teeth, hungry for ships and the men aboard them. Yet he was not afraid. He knew this part of the world well. Granted, after almost a month and a half of sailing back and forth across the southern coasts, even the lowest sailor could say as much. They would have to freeze here for a while yet to top him.

He was an older man, his hair gone almost entirely grey, both on his head and on his long sideburns, with dull bronze eyes that had seen too much fade away. So many hopes, dreams, and prospects, gone out with the tides. Lieutenant Ji, first officer of the _Hidden Fire_, had spent twenty-eight years of his life sailing the southern ocean, most of them dull and pointless. But none of them had been so pointless, so futile, so mind-numbingly _stupid_ as this cursed voyage, this mad quest of the banished prince. _Sailing south during winter...Zuko is even more a fool than I thought. Fine. He can ignore me if he wants. If we hit an iceberg and drown, I can say that I told him so_. If It came to that, it wouldn't be so bad to go down here. These waves, the ice sheets, even the damned wind, they were all old friends. And he had a lot he would like to forget. Standing there, sailing towards the end of the world on a fool's errand, Ji's frozen lips moved in the faintest of smiles. And he remembered.

Sayakachi was a small fishing village on one of the Fire Nation's Inner Islands. With only a few hundred people living there, most conversational topics had long ago been exhausted. Thus, most of the villagers had cultivated the fine arts of watching and listening to the land and sea around them. Of course, there were those who took up a hobby to pass the time between voyages or in the idle hours before the fishing boats returned. For eighteen-year old Ji, it was music. He was seated on a rock overlooking the lonely stretch of beach just west of the village. A nicked pipa, the red paint faded and peeling, was held in his suntanned hands. He tried to play it just as old Hisoki had shown him, his brow furrowed in intense concentration. As he played, his voice rose on the sea breeze, faint but present.

_The warm west wind blows_

_The golden sun rides high_

_How is it then that I_

_Am like a clouded sky?_

"Hey, Ji!" a familiar voice blared, much too close for comfort.

His fingers missed a string and a discordant twang ended the melody. Muttering imprecations under his breath, he turned to see his younger brother, Aoki, looking scared enough that Ji felt cold, even under the blazing sun overhead.

"What is it?" Ji asked, getting to his feet.

"The ship has come! I just saw it coming from the east! It's the recruiting ship, I'm sure of it!" A sick fear seized Ji's heart at the thought, as well as shame that he should be so afraid of his own nation.

"You don't know that," he scolded Aoki. "You shouldn't be panicking people this way!" But he wasn't even convincing himself. It was time for Sayakachi Village to fulfill its quota of soldiers and he was of age to go to war.

"No, I do know it," Aoki insisted, looking older and grimmer than his fifteen summers. "It was heading straight for us, right through the reefs. Come on, we've got to get back to the village and get ready."

In reality, getting ready was a simple chore. It was only a matter of picking who would go. Which men and woman would vanish onto the black ships, most never to return? Some were proud to be old enough to volunteer and serve their nation on the battlefield. Some had nothing for them in the village and didn't care what they were getting into. But many, like Ji, wanted only to stay here forever, with their families. Yet there was nothing for it. Sayakachi Village was loyal and had come to accept this tithe of flesh as akin to the seasons. It simply was, and there was no point in being upset over it.

Ji's family was in turmoil as they, and most of the other villagers, waited nervously at the docks, while the big black warship launched a smaller cutter, which would come the rest of the way to shore. One of them had to go. Last time it had been Okada, one of Ji's uncles, who had lost his wife to a fever and no longer wished to live in a place that reminded him of the tragedy. This time, though, the matter was in dispute. Ji's father, wishing to spare his son and a cousin also old enough, had said he would go. As a dutiful son, Ji was to obey him in this. Ji was not proving to be a dutiful son at all.

"I'm going, Dad!" he insisted. "If you don't let me, I'll volunteer anyway!"

"You arrogant brat! You think you can decide what's best for this family? Shut up and get behind me!" Despite the harsh words, Ji saw his father holding back tears and he stood firm, despite having many doubts about what he was doing.

"No! I don't want Aoki and the others to grow up without a father because you were too stupid to let me go! You're the better fisherman anyway!"

"I lost a brother already and I'm not going to lose a son! How can I ask you do to something I wouldn't do myself?" His voice grew very small. "Please, Ji...I don't know if I could live with myself if you died in my place."

"Oh, be quiet you foolish man," his mother said, sounding just as sad but with a frightening resolution. "You should be proud of him. His sacrifice is greater than yours. He gives up all he might ever be and you object? For shame!" But all the while she was crying too. His siblings stood by, heads bowed, in silent agony at the argument, knowing full well there was no chance of making a difference here. All the while, the cutter drew closer. Theirs wasn't the only such disagreement going on.

For a while, there was silence. They had already discussed the matter and come to much the same conclusion, but with the time now at hand, his father had made a last attempt to avoid what must be. He drew Ji into a crushing hug.

"Come back if you can," he murmured in a voice thick with emotion. "We'll be waiting."

"I will," Ji promised, desperately trying to keep his own voice from breaking. "As soon as I can."

The cutter drew up to the docks and a group of Fire Navy soldiers stepped out. The officer in the lead brought out the official scroll, which everyone knew by heart.

"To fight for our glorious nation and Fire Lord Ozai, each family in this village is required to contribute..."

Ji wasn't listening to the rest, but instead he walked out to stand with the others who were going, willingly or unwillingly. When the officer came to him, there was no question of taking his father instead. The man simply didn't care, though he did ask if Ji was really eighteen. Then the lot of them, about thirty in total, were herded on board. Ji craned his neck for one last glimpse of his family. He never forgot the fierce pride on their faces, mingled with sorrow. He never saw most of them again.

* * *

Six years later, Ensign Ji found himself fighting for his life, as the warship _Swimmer Through Blue Fire_ fled north at top speed, desperate to escape the Water Tribe ships that effortlessly kept pace, the warriors on board shouting threats and taunting the Fire Navy sailors with their approaching doom. Ji was spotting on the rear deck for the throwing-engines, yelling adjustments back over his shoulder in the vain hope that their missiles would connect. But the waterbenders on board the smaller vessels let them easily maneuver out of the way. Soon enough they would be close enough to jam the _Blue Fire's_ propeller with ice, and after that...well, the tales were grim about what happened then. Ji didn't intend to find out if they were true. Though it was a cloudy day, he, like everyone else, was sweating hard.

A giant sphere of ice slammed into the command tower just in front of him. Somehow, the waterbender had crafted the damned thing to shatter on impact into curved, sharp-edged shards that flew everywhere. Ji screamed in pain as he was hit by far too many. He knew he was bleeding copiously inside his armor, but probably the worst injury was the shard that was sticking out of his leg. From the look of things, it had come very near to hitting an artery and might still do it if he wasn't very careful about getting it out. Leaning heavily on the railing, he found himself staring down at their wake, watching his own blood dripping into the sea. _Our decks will run red, _he thought absently, _black too, if the engines get hit, then we all go up in a blaze of glory._ The idea hit him all in an instant and left him stunned. Fortunately, the helmsman chose that moment to swing the ship over and the near miss of another sphere of ice snapped him out of it.

"Bring up the oil barrels from the cargo hold!" he bellowed at the hapless sailor in charge of relaying his directions, just come running over to see if he was still alive. "And get some firebombs too! Don't argue, just do it!"

The sailor turned and sprinted, hopefully to carry out his orders. The next minute or so was an agony, as he watched the wood-and-bone Water Tribe ships move closer, sailing against the wind. They were close enough now for him to make out faces on the distant decks, some smeared with grey and white war paint, others pierced with bone jewelry, and nearly all of them twisted with anger and hate. Ji knew his own face was like that too. At this moment there were either friends or enemies and they were his enemies. As such, they would die. He wiped blood out of his eyes and swore that he'd live, that he'd keep that long-ago promise to his family.

"We've got the stuff you wanted!" the sailor panted, running back. "Now what?"

"Open the barrels and load a throwing-engine with them. Cut the fuses on the firebombs to four seconds, then light them and toss a whole bunch into the barrels. Then launch at the coordinates I give you!"

A vicious smile spread across the other man's face.

"Yes, sir!" He swiftly relayed the instructions. Ji rattled off the adjustments to the throwng-engine's aim to be made and waited for the word to come back that everything was ready. He could picture the scene, the crews straining to turn the cumbersome catapult on its base, then to crank the throwing arm back and heave the heavy barrel into place, the open top letting oil splash everywhere.

"Set!" was the word from the foredeck.

"Launch!" Ji ordered.

He watched the improvised missile fly overhead. The bombs ignited and the barrel exploded at just the right point, spreading a rain of fire across the sea. The Water Tribe ship he had targeted couldn't dodge all of it and was engulfed in burning oil. Even the waves burned. The waterbenders frantically tried to bend away the oily water around the ship as well as snuff the fires on board. They wouldn't succeed.

"Set!"

"Same coordinates, launch!"

The second volley proved too much for the waterbenders, and the crew abandoned their vessel, diving overboard, hoping vainly that they could swim outside the fiery waters. The other two ships veered off sharply, going to rescue those they could, letting the _Blue Fire_ go.

"We did it!" Ji called, "We got'em!" A ragged cheer went up and many sailors dashed to the aft rail to watch the show. Ji, despite his wounds and fatigue, was laughing hysterically, along with some others.

"Ha! Wow, look at it go! Burn, you bastards, burn!"

The pillar of smoke rising from the burning oil was enormous, soon obscuring the Water Tribe ships. Ji's laughter died away as he slowly understood what they'd actually done, and the light of battle left his eyes. He knew some soldiers that enjoyed their work. But though he took pride in being good at war, there was nothing enjoyable about having to wage it. He still watched, though, if only to remember the tribesmen's sacrifice. It wasn't only the Fire Nation that had to make sacrifices for the world to move forward. Too many people had forgotten that.

Receiving a promotion for his creativity and quick thinking under fire, Ji proved his worth time and again as a member of the main task force of the Southern Fleet, called the Southern Raiders by most. What made him valuable wasn't his seamanship or fighting skill, though both of those were important factors. He meant something because in fighting the Southern Water Tribes, he'd come to understand them better than most others. He knew how and why they fought. He knew something of how they lived.

And so the Southern Raiders steadily advanced southward, taking island after island, forcing the warriors to flee to the farthest reaches of the southern continent. Even that wasn't enough for their leader. Commander Yon Rha was a thorough man and wanted to beat the tribes badly enough that they never posed a threat again. While he admitted he could hardly track down every camp and village in the south, he decided that eliminating every waterbender would be enough to severely impair the tribes' fighting ability, perhaps permanently. He put a price on the head of every waterbender and entire companies were dedicated to hunting them down. Alive, if possible. Captive waterbenders had their uses. Dead was just as good. So it was that after what seemed a lifetime of fighting, Ji found himself present, with many others, at the death of what absolutely had to be the last waterbender in the south.

* * *

Lieutenant Ji grappled with the furious Water Tribe warrior, while the rest of the Southern Raiders struggled to break the line of defenders that was holding them back from the village beyond. The tribesmen fought like men possessed. Ji understood. They were defending their home. If anyone had ever invaded Sayakachi, this man would have been him. Such things didn't matter anymore. He spat a brief burst of fire into the man's face. Even blinded, the warrior fought back, slamming his forehead into Ji's nose. Ji felt bones crunch under the impact and blood ran down into his mouth. His firebending was useless at this range and the warrior was stronger than him. It was a struggle to keep from panicking.

A wrench to the left and his old leg wound let him know it didn't approve. The battle around them was chaos, with blood on the snow and a steady rain of ash was falling. A brilliant white sun presided everything. Ji was saved by another soldier, who threw the warrior back with a fire blast. The thick furs the man had on stopped most of it, and he rolled back to his feet, darting forward to snatch up a harpoon he'd dropped when Ji first came at him. He drew it back to throw and Ji braced himself, knowing if he dodged the wrong way, he was dead. The blue-white metal of the weapon's point was already stained with blood.

Surprising both of them, a signal flare flew overhead, detonating over the village in a burst of green fire. That was the signal to retreat, and the Fire Nation soldiers obediently began moving back slowly. The Water Tribe warriors, recognizing the signal from long experience and knowing they had no chance of defeating the whole task force, let them go. Ji hesitated, looking at his opponent, then saluted in the Fire Nation style, one open hand held upright touching a fist at the base of the palm.

"We won't be back like this," he said. "If it matters." Then he turned and ran. The only reason they would retreat so soon was because they had gotten what they came here for. _So, the last waterbender is dead or captured. Probably dead._ Strangely enough, he found himself unsure whether or not he cared for the idea. With the southern tribes no longer a major threat, what was left for him to do? He was valuable because he knew how to fight these people. Now...what good was he? The thought filled him with dread about what was to come.

As it turned out, Ji was correct in his fears. Many ships from the southern fleet were transferred to the north, to handle the other Water Tribe, or to the east, to continue crushing the outmatched Earth Navy. Ji could have gone north. The Commander had offered to make him a captain. He'd have his own ship and crew, and his experience would still be valuable in fighting the Northern Tribe. But he refused. He was tired of fighting. And though he would never admit it, he didn't want to see the waterbenders wiped out entirely. Instead he asked for a transfer back to a homeland patrol ship, where he'd never have to do anything more than hunt down the occasional smuggler or pirate. He wanted to go home. And as soon as he could arrange for leave time, he did just that.

* * *

It was a warm summer day, much like the day he had left, when Ji stepped ashore at Sayakachi Village for the first time in twenty-two years. The fighting had kept him away for most of that time, but the rest of the time, it had just been fear. He'd been away so long...he was afraid he wouldn't know his own home. He'd started out writing letters, just like he said, but there was no practical way to get answers. It was all he could do to find a way to get his letters delivered to a little village like Sayakachi, and the price was too high anyway. So he had written less and less often over the years, until finally he'd stopped altogether, making up some excuse. But now, it was finally time to face facts. His career was over, by his own choice. Maybe he could have a life again, for a change.

The first person he met after getting off the merchant ship that had brought him here was a very old friend. Nachimoto was a withered old husk of a woman who had spent most of her days sitting at the docks, pretending to do some fishing and surviving off her extended family's goodwill. She had a habit of making observations on things that nobody appreciated. She looked older than ever, but otherwise, unchanged, still pretending to fish in the same spot. As he walked up and greeted her, she interrupted him.

"Ji. You never spoke to me when you were a child, why break a habit?"

"That's because you were the same stupid old woman you are now," he answered, though without humor. "I've come back to see my family, like I said I would."

She waited for a moment. It was also her habit to wait a while between sentences so she could think of something really devastating. This was no exception.

"Feh. It took you long enough. Too long, in my opinion."

"Has something happened?"

Another long silence.

"The same thing that always happens. Time goes on. People die, go away, and grow old. Like me. And like you."

Ji self-consciously touched the grey hairs that now streaked his hair and speckled his sideburns. It was true, like most things she said.

"Do they still live in the same place? That's all I need to know."

She nodded, and he walked off.

"Ji," she called after him.

"Yes?"

"Bring me something nice when you come back this way. Maybe it will make you feel better."

In the space of a few short hours, Ji was back, sitting beside Nachimoto, while the sun set to the west. His beloved pipa, which he had carried across the sea for all these years, lay on his lap. He couldn't bring himself to play a single note, he who had become loved for his music among the sailors. He had gotten a new pair of wooden sandals for the old woman, but he didn't feel much better because of it.

"Now I wish I'd talked with you more when I was younger," he murmured.

"No you don't. I would have made your childhood gloomy beyond belief."

He chuckled.

"Probably. I just didn't realize how much things could change."

His parents? Dead of old age. His siblings? Either married into other villages or families or so different as to be strangers. Aoki now owned the family's share in the fishing boat they worked on and had grown to be a serious and intelligent man, one who knew nothing about war and didn't care for it. He made Ji embarrassed to be wearing his uniform, despite his obvious respect and admiration. It made Ji angry and they hadn't parted well. Was this the reward for his years of service? The girl he had admired was married, of course, with children, he had expected that. In short, just like old Okada, there was nothing for him here. And nothing much in the navy, either, just a life of obscurity.

"Thanks, Nachimoto."

"For what?"

"Being the same and telling the truth."

"Feh. At least you are more polite now than when you were young. Go back to the sea, Ji. That's where you belong."

There was nothing he could say to that. The next day he left Sayakachi Village for the second and last time.

The years passed and Ji stopped caring about news of the war. He did his job and did it well, as he always had, but the determination that had driven his life was gone. He was deep in apathy when he heard the news, the first interesting thing he had heard in years. Prince Zuko had been banished for some unknown offense. Ji neither knew nor cared what it was, and in fact, couldn't care less about the prince either. But apparently he had been assigned a mission that would take him out of the Fire Nation for some time and was to be given a small ship. Since there was no return date specified, there was considerable difficulty finding a willing crew. Normally, Ji would have passed on the idea, but the word was that Zuko's uncle, General Iroh, was going with him.

So, Ji volunteered. If he was to rot away, he might as well do it in the best of company. The opportunity to serve alongside someone like Iroh didn't come along every day, especially since he had retired. And if they were successful, hopefully Zuko would reward them, though Ji wasn't counting on that. Since he was one of the few people to volunteer, due to his rank and experience, he was made first officer, and under took to prepare the ship for departure. All things considered, the crew performed tolerably well. His first meeting with their two royal passengers was not what he had expected, though.

Having heard many descriptions of the legendary Dragon of the West, he wasn't all that surprised by the reality. Iroh was a fairly short man with a large belly, receding hair, and an amiable manner. The young prince was a teenage boy, his head shaved save for a dragon-tail topknot, with a layer of bandages over one eye, and an attitude that did not bode well for the voyage.

Ji bowed to the two of them as they stepped on deck. The crew was assembled behind him and the other officers stood at his left and right.

"Prince Zuko, General Iroh. I'm Lieutenant Ji, your first officer. This is-"

"Is the ship ready?" Zuko demanded, cutting him off.

"Yes, sir."

"Then get us moving and stop wasting my time." Without waiting for an answer, Zuko walked away, heading towards the tower at the rear of the ship. Iroh sighed.

"You must forgive my nephew. This is his first command and he has much to learn about how to lead."

Ji, somewhat mollified, replied, "We'll do our best to help him learn, sir." Turning to the rest of the crew, he ordered, "Cast off and raise the anchors! Fire up the engines!" The _Hidden Fire_ came to life, and for the first time in a long while, Ji was looking forward to what came next.

That lasted about as long as it took them to get outside the harbor of the Imperial City and him to walk up to the bridge to inquire where they were going.

"Our mission is to capture the Avatar," Zuko declared. "Set course for the Western Air Temple."

The bridge crew, looking desperately uncomfortable, glanced over at Ji, silently willing him to say something to the madman. As the senior officer on deck, Ji cursed inwardly and spoke up.

"With all due respect, sir, the Avatar is gone. He's not coming back."

Zuko looked at him as though he were a fool.

"He _is_ alive, Lieutenant. And I _will_ find him. Set course for the Air Temple, now."

Ji glanced at Iroh, who was nodding slightly. Ji resigned himself to taking this brat's orders for a while.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Now, nearly three years later, Ji had long since given up hope of Zuko accepting that his mission was a waste of time. Iroh did his best to smooth things over with the crew and teach Zuko how to lead, but the results were far from satisfying and the general opinion was that their leader was a headstrong idiot. Speaking of him...

"Lieutenant! What are you standing around for? I thought it was your job to ensure the safety of this ship and here you are daydreaming! We all have to make sacrifices, so you'll need to go off in your own little world some other time!"

Ji turned calmly.

"Respectfully, sir," he said. "I know the meaning of sacrifice."


	6. A Treatise on Nobility

A/N: By request (I'll take requests if they sound fun to write) this chapter takes a look at Toph and the Duke. I'm just as confused as to how to explain his name, so I didn't even bother to try. My only vaguely plausible idea seemed to be making it inspired by his real name, but it's hard coming up with the right phonetics when working with eastern names. Anyway, the two characters seem to get along well, though it's not emphasized in the show.

* * *

The former Fire Navy warship _Steel Claws of the Dragon_ rode at anchor on a quiet sea, under a sky full of stars, marred only by a few translucent wisps of cloud, like patches of grey silk. The Fire Nation town on the nearby shore slept peacefully, for the most part, untroubled by its presence. The western half of the great central lakes of the Earth Kingdom was firmly under Fire Navy control, and they had nothing to fear. Or so it seemed. But this town was only recently conquered, and the people were still of the Earth Kingdom in their hearts. Seditious thoughts were brewing in many. And in a few people, two in particular, those thoughts passed from desire to action. A small boat put out from the docks, gliding across the black waters like a wraith towards the _Dragon's Claws_, the passengers in a murderous mood.

Aboard ship, the battered remnants of the Southern Water Tribe warriors that had held Chameleon Bay against overwhelming odds slept like the dead. They were on the run, beaten, fleeing for their lives and the lives of the Avatar and his friends. The few sentries still awake saw nothing. The little boat crept up to the warship's stern. A grappling hook, muffled with thick cloth, sailed up and caught on the railing. A tiny figure scampered up the rope, followed shortly afterwards by a big man, weighed down with a heavy pack. He unhooked the rope and tossed it down to a third man, waiting in the boat, who snugged the vessel up to the hull of the _Dragon's Claws_, making it nearly invisible unless the sentry happened to look straight down. The two intruders quickly moved to the nearest hatch to the lower decks. After the bigger man had greased the hinges and the wheel, they opened it and vanished into the bowels of the ship.

The empty halls of the ironclad were dimly lit by lantern light, tinted red. It put the invaders, already wary, in mind of some demonic netherworld of metal and fire. They clearly knew their way around, for they took the shortest route to the boiler room, where the immense furnaces that drove the vessel were banked down, with only glowing embers remaining. The Fire Nation soldier assigned to watch things was snoring on a chair. After a brief conversation, an agreement was reached. The big man moved to a certain control panel and pulled a lever. The muted clunk that resulted made them both wince, but the soldier didn't stir. Then they moved to a nearby gauge, the needle of which was steadily dropping, and propped it in place with a piece of scrap metal. The fresh water that the ship relied on for stream was now draining away into the lake. When the crew fired up the boilers, without water, they would explode after a short while. Just enough would be left to get up steam, so that no one would suspect anything. The smaller man stayed to make sure enough water remained, while the larger one padded off for another task.

Some Fire Nation ships, mostly those that operated in arctic areas, carried blasting jelly in case they became stuck in ice, and it appeared that this ship had, at some point during its career, spent time in either the extreme north or south. Two barrels, strategically placed, would sink the ship, or at the least, damage it enough that it would have to be abandoned until another ship passed that could tow it to a shipyard. And many things could happen in that time.

The lock on the cargo hold where the jelly was kept yielded after a short time to the prybar that the big man produced. The barrels were placed and the two saboteurs were laying down a trail of spark powder when they were caught. Hearing the soft footfalls only at the last minute, they whirled around, the small man drawing a knife while the larger one hefted an enormous club. They almost laughed when they saw who they had been caught by. It was a little girl in sleeping clothes, looking as though she had just been awakened. Her mane of black hair was wild, sticking out in all directions. Not to mention she looked blind. One of the crew's daughters, probably. Both of the saboteurs exchanged a silent look. _We can't leave her here to die._

"Hey, little girl," the big one said. "Sorry to bother you, but could you come up to the deck? There's something you need to see."

An unnerving grin spread across her face and the resistance fighter felt like slapping himself as he realized his poor choice of words.

"Thanks, but I'm pretty sure I've seen it already," she answered, waving her hand in front of her face just to rub it in further. "Now what I'm really interested in is your handiwork with our ship. Granted, it's a floating slab of metal, but my friends and I are using it. You mess with them, you mess with me." She slid into a fighting stance. "So get this straight: _Don't mess with me_, or I'll make a necklace out of your teeth. You going to come quietly?"

The two fighters sprang into action, the smaller one hurling himself at the girl while the big one struck a spark-stick and made to light the trail of powder. Toph slammed one foot down and slid her hands to the right. A section of the iron deck peeled up with a teeth-grating screech and pinned the two of them to the wall before either one could finish what they'd been trying to do. She blew her bangs out of her face.

"Guess not," she said to no one in particular, and left to wake up anyone who wasn't already up.

When Toph put the deck back in place, spilling the two would-be saboteurs onto the floor, they were surrounded by more men in Fire Nation uniforms but who were clearly not Fire Nation. They had the dark skin and blue eyes of the Water Tribe. And two of them in particular were familiar.

"You guys!" the big man blurted in surprise.

"Pipsqueak and Duke?"

"It's _the_ Duke," the small man complained, getting to his feet. Seen in the light, he was little more than a child, while his companion's head nearly brushed the ceiling.

Sokka broke into a delighted grin, and rushed forward to shake Pipsqueak's hand.

"Hey, I never thought I'd be saying this when we left, but it's great to see you again! And trying to blow up a Fire Nation warship! Amazing!"

"One that we were on," Katara reminded him. "And didn't they lead you on a pointless walk through the forest after you got tied up by Jet?"

Sokka waved off the comment.

"So, you do anything aside from the blasting jelly? I'd have had a backup plan in case I was caught, something subtle. I hope it wasn't the engines, though, that's just too obvious. Guys? Come on, guys, tell me that wasn't it, that's way too uninspired!"

"It was his idea," the Duke said, pointing at Pipsqueak.

"Hey, I go with what works," Pipsqueak grumbled. "I didn't see you volunteering anything better."

"I still say we should have turned the knobs around so that they'd have shut the steam chamber and blown it up trying to move the ship," the Duke answered. This was apparently a long-standing argument between the two.

"I like that," Sokka approved. "Or maybe you could have-Ow!"

Toph had walked over and seized him by the ear to get his attention.

"Hey, for those of us who don't know what you're talking about, where did you meet these guys from?"

"It's a long story," Katara said, giving a look to her brother that warned him against starting to talk about something else. "And I think we're all tired. Let's get some sleep and we can talk in the morning, all right?" She turned to the two former Freedom Fighters. "Sorry, but do you mind being locked in for the night? It'd make everyone more comfortable. But we could really use your help."

"Yeah, sure," Pipsqueak agreed. "Just let me talk to our boatman in back. The poor guy is probably going out of his mind worrying about us." He glanced at Toph, and though he obviously wanted to ask questions, he settled for saying, "Pleased to meet you, little miss, though I wish things had gone better."

The Duke was not quite as forgiving.

"You still ruined my plan," he muttered. "But yeah, sure, whatever."

Toph preened a bit, her messy hair making the gesture comical.

"I do the best I can."

The next morning, after Pipsqueak and the Duke had been told the long tale of the Avatar's journey from where they had left Jet's hideout, the two Freedom Fighters explained, briefly, how they had gotten here.

"After you guys left," the Duke said, "Things got a lot worse. No matter what Jet told you, the Fire Nation wasn't taking us seriously until he tried to wipe out the town. After that, they finally realized what we could do. They got serious, fast." His eyes unfocused as he remembered what must have been days of terror. "They burned down the forest to smoke us out. If the dam had still been in place, maybe we could have saved the hideout. Anyway, we barely made it out of the trees in time. I've never seen anything like that fire. It moved so fast...and then..." He faltered, unable to keep going, and Pipsqueak laid a hand on his head.

"Some of the younger kids couldn't run fast enough," he said, picking up the story. "Sneers was carrying a few of them when he tripped and fell. He didn't make it." A moment of silence followed before the Duke spoke up again.

"Jet lost the Freedom Fighters after that," he said, calm once again. "Most of them, anyway. Nobody wanted to follow someone who'd gotten his base destroyed and so many people killed. It turns out we were just another gang after all. It did something to Jet, having his life wiped out again. He just left the morning after we escaped. Longshot and Smellerbee went with him, but me and Pipsqueak stayed to look after the others. I've seen what happens after a gang breaks up. They didn't deserve that."

"We got everybody settled into the nearest Earth Kingdom town," Pipsqueak said. "Nobody believed us when we said they were refugees, but they didn't care. We decided to head after Jet, but we only got as far as this town before we got caught up in the war again. The people here weren't on the front line that long ago and they've had it bad, having to provide for the war effort. We thought we could help out. So we've been trying to organize the resistance forces in the town and from a lot of other villages around here. Stealing money to pay for mercenaries or real soldiers to train our recruits, establishing lines of communication, and just generally trying to sabotage the war effort here. It hasn't really taken off yet, this job with your ship was the biggest thing we've tried to do yet."

"But we'd heard about the Avatar getting killed," the Duke added. "The Fire Nation's been telling the world about that and about the fall of Ba Sing Se. A third of our recruits dropped out overnight when they heard the news." He grinned. "Hearing that Aang's alive is the best news we've had in a long time. And this invasion plan of yours sounds like a chance to do something useful. So we'd like to join your crew."

Pipsqueak nodded agreement.

"We've got some people on our payroll that you could use. Sailors, mechanics, those kinds of people. Most of them are mercenaries, so don't expect too much, but it's got to be better than what you've got right now."

"Just as long as they can be trusted to keep their word. And we can't have them being informed about the invasion plan," Hakoda said seriously. Although it was Sokka and Katara that the two were talking to, nobody doubted that the Water Tribe chieftain was the one that everyone was looking to for final approval. But of course, he himself looked to his children immediately after finishing.

"My son and daughter say that you're trustworthy and they know you better than me. So, provided nobody objects..." Nobody did, and Sokka's brief glance at Toph revealed that they weren't lying. "...we'd be glad to have you with us. We need all the help we can get."

"Welcome to Team Avatar!" Sokka congratulated them enthusiastically. "Or, I don't know, I'm thinking of changing the name now that we've gotten so many people. I still think we ought to work Boomerang somewhere into it."

Pipsqueak chuckled, but the Duke stood up in his chair, or rather, on top of the box he'd been sitting on to raise himself to a level with the others, and pointed at the blind earthbender.

"Okay, if we're team members, then my first question is who is she and how did she beat us?"

"Oh, right, I'd forgotten you haven't met yet," Sokka said, snapping his fingers. "That's Toph. She's awesome. That's how she won. You'll like her."

"What's up?" Toph said amiably. She was reclining on what was supposed to be the captain's chair in the conference room, her feet propped up on the table.

"I don't like her," the Duke grumbled, crossing his arms.

"I'd suggest learning how, then," Hakoda said with a smile. "Toph, Bato, why don't you two go ashore with them and see about getting their men on board?"

The two Water Tribe siblings recognized the tactic. It was a familiar method of the chieftain's to end a petty feud. Having to work together on serious matters encouraged cooperation. And with Bato there, things wouldn't get out of hand, hopefully. Later, as they found out, it worked, though not quite in the manner intended.

The newly conquered Fire Nation town of Xitai was in the process of being converted to a Fire Navy resupply depot. The Western Fleet was steadily moving east to support the annexation of the remaining Earth Kingdom provinces and it demanded new bases to operate out of. The group split up, with Bato and Pipsqueak gathering the sailors and Toph and the Duke finding the mechanics. The latter two's search took them into a new section of the town, where most of the buildings were being demolished to make way for warehouses or factories. They would turn out and stockpile parts and equipment for the great Fire Navy ironclads, along with more mundane supplies. The Duke seemed very much at home, something that didn't go unnoticed by Toph.

"Are you from the Fire Nation?" she asked. "You seem like you know your way around pretty well."

"I'm Earth Kingdom," he said, offended. "If I was Fire Nation I'd be living like a king. I'd have a real life instead of this excuse for one."

"The high life's not all it's made out to be," Toph told him. "Believe me, I know."

"Maybe not, but I'll bet you've never had to steal food or sleep in the dirt. You never had to learn how to use a knife when you were five because you'd get beaten up if you didn't. I spotted you a mile off, you're high class pretending to be low class."

Toph stopped walking and leaned against a wall.

"First off, I'm not pretending to be anything, you're still just being a sore loser. Second, maybe I never had to deal with that, but you never had to deal with parents that pretended to the outside world that you didn't exist and treated you like a porcelain doll. You never had to worry that you'd just grow to accept a life like that. We've both got sob stories, big deal. I've moved on. So should you, if you want to make anything of yourself besides a smart-mouthed jerk. Just let me know when you're ready. I'll wait."

The Duke scowled at her for a minute, but she showed no sign of impatience or of moving and it was futile to try and win a staring contest. He sighed and relented.

"Sorry. It's just...you scare me, being so confident. I've seen a lot of bad stuff happen and had to run away a lot. It seems like you must be upper class to be talk like you do. It wouldn't get you anywhere on the street."

She started walking again and he moved back ahead.

"Maybe not," she said with a shrug, "But it's like I've always said, it's not bragging if you can do it."

The Duke revised his opinion at a precipitous rate.

"I take it back," he said. "You'd do just fine."

In only a couple hours, the two were able to locate the freelance mechanics known to the new incarnation of the Freedom Fighters and convince most of them (well, four out of five) to sign on with Hakoda's crew. They were headed back to the docks, where a cutter from the _Dragon's Claws_ was tied up, when they were unavoidably detained.

It was the Duke who first noticed that some of the bulletins on wanted criminals looked familiar.

"Uh, Toph, don't look now, but there's a wanted poster of you up on the board," he murmured.

"That'd be pretty hard," she said, "But I'll take your word for it. Does it look good?"

"Well, your hair is done up all fancy. Says that the Bei Fong family is offering a reward of fifteen hundred gold pieces to anyone who can bring their daughter back home to Gaoling, alive and well." He turned to look at her in some awe. "You're from the Bei Fong family?"

"So you've heard of them," Toph said, dismayed.

"The whole southern Earth Kingdom has heard of them," the Duke said. "I can't believe you gave all that up. I mean, even to join the Avatar...well, I don't know if I'd have done it. When I was younger, all I cared about was getting enough food. I've never really had a home."

"What, the Freedom Fighters weren't your thing?"

"It was all Jet. He let us believe in things, you know? And now he's gone, so it's back to wandering."

"No, it's not," Toph stated. She couldn't imagine what growing up entirely alone was like and it was for just that reason that she was so sure. Some things you just had to take a stand against and one thing she couldn't stand was feeling sorry for yourself. "Not now and not ever. It's like Sokka said, you're part of the team now and we take care of our friends. So don't go all mushy on me and tell me you don't have a home."

The Duke took heart and stood a little straighter, adjusting his helmet.

"Thanks," he said. "Although, don't you ever think about going back? That's a lot of money they're offering. They really want you back."

"Tough. I'm not going," she stated flatly. "Tear up that poster and keep walking."

The Duke shook his head.

"Hey, you don't want to go back, that's fine with me, but I'll get in trouble for taking it down. In fact, we probably shouldn't stand too close. Come on, let's get back to the ship."

"Actually, I'd really rather you stayed," a gravelly voice declared. The two of them turned to see five men coming towards them. A muscular man with a nose ring, an archer with a tattoo across his face, a man with a face-concealing helm, black coat, and bandoleers of explosives, a bushy-bearded man with a _guandao_, and a dark-skinned giant with a long ball-and-chain type weapon. The leader, the one with the nose ring, looked quite pleased.

"You would truly be amazed how many people get themselves caught by looking at their own wanted posters," he remarked. "Toph Bei Fong, you'll be coming with us."

"What makes you think that's her?" the Duke asked.

"You mean besides the fact you were just discussing tearing down the poster?"

"Sorry, but my sister is a little soft in the head. She likes to pretend she's different people. We come here for inspiration. We were just pretending." The Duke was a good actor, he really sounded scared. Though not all of it was acting.

"What are you, stupid? She looks exactly like the sketch!"

"That person has fancy hair and clothes. And it doesn't say anything about her being an earthbender. My sister is an earthbender. Show'em."

Toph, playing along, kicked the ground and lifted a few pebbles up. The bounty hunter walked over to look more closely at the poster.

"Come on, how many Earth Kingdom girls are about that age and have black hair?" the Duke continued.

"She's blind, too. That's way too big a coincidence."

"You guys all think so?"

The other bounty hunters considered the idea.

"Of course they do! Come over here and look at this poster, you'll see I'm right," The group gathered around the board. After a short while, they came to an agreement.

"Sorry, kid, but you're not fooling anyone. That girl is the one we're looking for."

"Actually I just wanted to get you all to stand together so I could do this," the Duke answered without missing a beat, and gave the thumbs up to the rooftop above them. The sound of a counterweight falling was heard and a thick net snapped up around the five bounty hunters, hauling them up over the wall before they could get their bearings.

"Thanks for the tip," the Duke called up at them, displaying the coin pouch he'd liberated from their leader, and dashed off, Toph following behind, laughing out loud.

"When did you set all that up?" she asked, delighted.

"Lots of greedy Fire Nation soldiers and bounty hunters that come through town check those boards. They're a great way to make quick cash, especially since this board doesn't have a lot of witnesses around. I'll have to drop this money off with them before we go. Honestly, we just got really lucky."

"Ah, I could have taken them," Toph dismissed his worries. "But thanks anyway. You're all right." She offered a huge grin and a backslap that stung. He winced, but chuckled.

"You're welcome."


	7. Perspectives

A/N: In honor of the new Avatarverse series, The Legend of Korra, I was inspired to do something involving that. It struck me that naturally, Korra would wonder about her predecessor and what he was like, so although it'll probably never happen in the show, I got the idea that she'd ask Aang's friends, if they were still alive. Obviously, I don't own either The Last Airbender of The Legend of Korra. If anyone else has requests, as usual, please let me know. Otherwise, enjoy the show.

* * *

The world moves in circles. The seasons follow each other endlessly, winter to spring to summer to fall. The Four Nations were one century at war, in the next at peace, with themselves and each other. People died and were born. Or, in one very special case, _reborn_, with all the burdens that implied. And now she knew who and what she was. Or rather, what she had always been, living countless lives, down through the history of the world. Korra, the sixteen-year old girl from the Southern Water Tribe, for better or worse, was gone. The Avatar stood in her place.

Knowing as they did about the previous Avatar's reaction, the tribe half suspected she would run away as well. But she surprised them. Like water, she sought to become whatever was needed while retaining her own nature. It was towards that end that she sought to truly understand who she had been, from those who knew him best. The first of that legendary company was like a favorite aunt to her, so it was there that she went first. Also, it was geographically convenient, since they lived approximately a hundred paces apart.

"Master Katara," Korra greeted her instructor. She was markedly more serious than usual. Normally she was a bright and tireless girl, always in motion, steadily working away at whatever task she had set herself, like a river carving through rock. "Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you."

"I thought you might." Katara gestured for her to enter. The older woman had aged well. Though time had etched deep lines into her features and left her hair grey going on white, she had a sweet, grandmotherly look. Though, as Korra had discovered, she could be quite intimidating when she was upset. Those blue eyes saw everything.

The two of them sat down, cross-legged, on the thick fur mats that covered the floor of the building's main room. Before the end of the war, a house of more than one room would have been considered unthinkable. With the arrival of waterbenders from their sister tribe, the south was finally regaining what it had lost.

"So," Katara said, smiling warmly. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I...um...this might be a little personal, but...what was Aang like? I mean..." She struggled for the right words. "I mean, as a person, not just as an Avatar. The Water Shamans told me I'm supposed to meet with him as soon as I feel ready and I want to know what to expect. What was...what was I like?"

Katara considered the question for a while before answering, looking at something far away, many years ago. When they had been young, with the world at their feet.

"Aang was a child who had to grow up too fast," she said softly. "He had to go through a lot of terrible things to end the war and he was never the same afterwards. He was...sadder, more serious most of the time. When mediating conflicts, he was terrifying when both parties refused to back down. He'd tell them what was going to happen and they would listen. He hated doing that. It meant he'd failed to do things the right way, the peaceful way. The Avatar's job isn't to force things, he said once, it's to remove obstacles that stop things from going as they should. To be a diplomat, not a warrior." Her gaze focused on Korra again. "You have his spirit, his appreciation of life. You have...his hope. That's what I see in you. I'm sure the meeting will go fine." While they talked for a while longer, Korra thought that those words at the beginning were more meaningful than anything else.

Much to Katara's surprise, the young Avatar announced her desire to visit the other heroes who had traveled with Aang before speaking with him. She set out first for Kyoshi Island, where the master's brother lived. She found him in a village inn, enthralling the local children with crazy stories in between instructing them on the proper method of walking a coin across their knuckles. Sokka had no right to look as good as he did at his age. He knew it. And reveled in it. When she approached him, he immediately tipped his audience off as to who she was, then sat back and watched the chaos with a satisfied look as she had to deal with the horde of children and their demands. When she had finally gotten them to disperse, he proved more than willing to talk about his old friend. When she put her question to him, though, like his sister, he stopped and thought. His answer was different, yet in many ways the same.

"He was too good for his own good. I mean, he was too honest, too naive, and just incapable of considering all his options in any given situation. It's why he had so many problems. If he'd concentrated his efforts on helping the Earth Kingdom by non-violent means, like sabotage, crushing morale, and helping the different armies connect with each other, things like that, we probably could have stalled the war effort, and kicked Ozai's ass on the Day of Black Sun. But all he could think about was defeating the Fire Lord, taking down the whole war in one shot. Doable? Sure. But the only way? Of course not." He chuckled. "But you know, I wouldn't have had it any other way. That's why I got to like him, because he was like that. And he laughed at a few of my jokes, that's the most important thing. He had a great sense of humor. You've got his preference for honesty and his stubbornness about sticking to his principles, though I hope yours are a bit more flexible. I see him in you, kid, but you're your own person. Don't forget that."

The third member of the group would have been much harder to find even as few as five years ago, due to her penchant for travel and refusal to recognize her advancing years. But finally, Toph Bei Fong had been persuaded-rather forcefully-to retire from, as she had been known to call it, 'professional ass-kicking,' and was living in her home town of Gaoling. Korra was impressed with the bustling Earth Kingdom town and even more so with the luxurious Bei Fong estate. Even with that, it was the master herself that got everyone's attention.

Despite her age, Toph retained a vitality that made her seem a lot bigger than she was. A lifetime of earthbending had given her a heroic array of muscles that still persisted, and her hair had streaks of black mixed with grey. She greeted Korra with a friendly shoulder punch that would probably leave a bruise and offered to begin earthbending training early. Korra declined, wanting to do things properly, and explained why she had come. Toph didn't require any time to think about her answer.

"He was a good kid," she said, leaning back, feet propped up on a low table. "He learned painfully slow on a lot of things, but he learned well. Once he got the hang of standing strong and decided to do it, you had to watch out. In hindsight, it'd have been a lot easier for all concerned if he'd actually killed people, but you've gotta hand it to him, he saw what he wanted and went after it like an earthbender. He was patient, too, it took a lot to get him to lose his temper. He was disciplined in what mattered most." She grinned at Korra. "You've got that same patience and focus. I see that right off. So just decide what you want and go after it, head-on. You've got the stuff."

To meet the final acquaintance of Aang's, Korra journeyed to the Fire Nation capital, where she was received formally by Fire Lord Zuko and his wife, Mai. The Fire Lord's robes and crown only added to the dignity and sense of slumbering power that lay about him and the Fire Lady was definitely someone to step cautiously around as well. She had a keen eye for details and wasn't afraid to use it.

Zuko was supposedly growing more absent-minded with age, but when she spoke with him, he seemed perfectly lucid. She got the idea that at least some of his behavior was a fake so that he could get other people to handle running the country, which he confirmed, saying it was a tactic he'd learned from his uncle. He'd also learned how to appreciate good tea, since the kind he provided for their conversation was amazing. And he, like Toph, didn't need much time to think about her question.

"He was afraid," he said, tugging at his beard in a habitual gesture. "I think that controlled a lot of what he did. He had such power but he was terrified of using it, because he might hurt someone. He learned to handle his fear, but I don't think he ever really got over it completely. Which I think is a good thing. The day I stop being afraid of having so much power is the day it's time for me to step down. He was impulsive, given to acting on his instincts a lot, but just as willing to listen to advice before charging off." His steady gaze made Korra a little uncomfortable. "Judging from seeing you here, I'd say you're a little impulsive yourself. I hope you're as good at listening and I definitely hope you're afraid of the power you wield. You should be. But you can't let it control you. I think you can do it. He was a talented kid. So are you."

Her final stop was at the Fire Avatar Temple on Crescent Island. The winter solstice, conveniently enough, was coming up, and there was one more person that could offer insight into her past. He was, to say the least, surprised to see her.

"Aang hasn't told me of any contact from you yet," Roku said. The old Avatar looked just as he had been described, a tall, stately man with thick white hair and a long beard, wearing the crown of a Fire Nation prince. "Why have you sought me out?" he continued. He had the kind of voice that was soothing just to listen to, low and resonant, with the hint of a rasp.

When she explained, he laughed quietly.

"You had no need to worry. He is a much better Avatar than I am, no thanks to the ordeal he went through at such a young age. As to what he is like as a person, I simply don't know. It isn't my place to know. He only called upon me when he had need of my wisdom. From the kinds of problems he asked me to help with, I thought he was a man that knew his limits. So you should know yours. If you have spoken with those who knew him the best, who were there with him from the beginning and during the most important times, then I think you are as well prepared as anyone can be. Have courage."

So it was that Korra returned to the Southern Water Tribe and went in search of her predecessor. Aang in the flesh was a man in the prime of life, wearing the saffron robes and carved wooden necklace of an Air Nomad elder and with the famous blue arrow tattoos visible on his hands and head. He listened kindly to all of her fears, doubts, and questions about what it meant to be the Avatar and answered as best he could. When she told him what his friends had said about him, he was delighted to hear it.

"But what would you say you're like?" she asked.

Aang shrugged.

"I'm Aang," he said, grinning. "That's all I can say. I'd prefer to be judged by what I did for the world. If you approve of that, then I'm content. As for who you are, to anticipate your next question, you're Korra. And if you're happy with yourself, then you shouldn't worry about how you're treated based on past Avatars. Especially if people try to boil you in oil."

"Huh?"

"Stop by Chin Village on the south Earth Kingdom coast sometime and ask. They'll know what you mean. The point is that as long as you make your mark as yourself, people will respect you for who you are, not who you were."

"I guess you're right," Korra mused. "Kind of makes all my traveling a little stupid when you think about it."

"I wouldn't say that," Aang disagreed. "I just said you shouldn't worry about how people treat you based on who you were, not that you shouldn't take advantage of it when you can. My friends are good people and they know a lot. I'm glad you met them."

She smiled.

"So am I."


	8. Telling No Tales

**A/N:** For this chapter, you may thank the editor for my main story, the redoubtable Sylvacoer. It is something of a gift in return for all the hard work she does in helping me deliver Scorched Earth to the masses, inspired by her interest that I apparently inspired in the minor character of the canyon guide from the regrettable Great Divide episode. Recursive inspiration! It's a little depressing, but there it is, unedited, so you know it's definitely me, without anyone to catch my mistakes. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

* * *

It was a typical day in the Great Divide when the canyon guide—for so he was known even to himself these days—came across the dead man. He was on his way back from shepherding yet another ragged band of refugees through the hellish landscape of the canyon floor, and so he was alone. No one wanted to travel west across the Great Divide.

He was close to stopping for the day to wait out the unearthly heat when he saw it, faint shadow on the ground a ways ahead of him, looking a whole lot like a body. He sighed, and trudged onwards, leaning on his walking stick more than usual. Death had a way of making him feel all the more frail out here. Like as not, that would be him one day.

As he approached, he saw that the deceased was a man, maybe on the wrong side of thirty, not dead too long, with neck-length black hair contained by a headband, wearing traveling clothes. The cause of death was obvious, an enormous bloodstain, baked brown by the burning sun overhead, spread out beneath him. The canyon guide knew what he'd see if he turned him over, a hideous, gaping rip across the chest, letting his guts spill out. Probably he'd stumbled onto a canyon crawler nest looking for shelter, took the wound, but managed to hold himself together long enough to stagger off and die here. The guide knelt down and had a look at his face and received his second surprise of the day. _Xu Tong? Is that you? Oh, please, don't let it be him._ He opened the man's pack and rifled through it carelessly, finding the usual supplies minus food, a couple pairs of cuffs with keys and a passport that confirmed his worst fears. _After all these years, this is how it ends? He always was such a damn willful kid. And now I have to bury him out here where no one will ever know how he died or why._ Tears dried swiftly under the summer sun.

As he was taking a bit more time to sort out anything of value he could carry from Xu Tong's belongings, he happened across a small book, bound with string. Not thinking of much at the time, he just slipped it into a pocket and got on with his grim work. Earthbending was a great aid in burial, even in the hard-packed earth and barren stone of the Great Divide. Soon enough, only trace signs of earthbending showed that anyone had ever been there and the canyon guide walked on.

He stopped within the next half-mile or so and bent a small cave to hide out in. There, he bethought himself of the book and what it might hold. Undoing the string with unusual care, he opened the old book and squinted down at it, cursing his failing eyesight. It was a journal. Xu Tong's journal, dated from a year ago. The canyon guide read, giving himself over to memory. Most of the entries were short and not particularly informative, but some struck him deeply.

_August 12th_

_I've finally left. I'm ashamed that it took me this long and ashamed that I'm going and leaving the village this way. But it had to be done. I can't live the rest of my life knowing that he's out there somewhere and thinking he can never return home. I know I'm doing the right thing._

_November 24__th_

_I'm beginning to wonder if he's even still alive. He would be pretty old by now. I don't know if I would recognize him even if I found him. And the people in the borderlands are either lost, hidden, or evil men, come here to forget their pasts or escape justice, they are of little help in following the trail. It is the perfect place for a man to hide. But I have to keep looking._

_January 18__th_

_I've spoken to most of the plains tribes and none of them know anything. He didn't go west. I don't know where else to turn. My money is all but spent and I've finally accepted a contract as a caravan guard just to survive. It isn't good work, but it's better than bounty hunting. And perhaps he travelled east anyway._

_March 3__rd_

_He isn't in the eastern borderlands. I've scoured every frontier town and oasis and even he wouldn't be mad enough to try and seek refuge with the Si Wong tribes. At least, I used to think so. These days, I'm not sure of anything anymore save that my cause is just. I know at least he didn't travel north across the Great River. He is a man of the south, as I am, that much I'm sure of. That can't have changed. If it has, then perhaps he is no longer than man I knew. The thought makes me sad and I can write no more for now._

_June 10__th_

_The only places left to search are the western mountains, the frontier towns near the Great Divide, and after that, the eastern provinces of the south. I have travelled farther than many men ever have and everywhere I go, I see the effects of the war. This has only strengthened my resolve. He has to understand how things have changed. It can't be just guilt that has kept him gone. Maybe he has returned while I've been away and I simply don't know it. The thought makes me hopeful._

_August 20__th_

_He isn't in the western mountains, but at last, I have a clue! The people of Zha Feng have told me many tales of a canyon guide that sounds like him as he would be now. It's a long shot, but it's better than the nothing I've had all these months. I only just missed him, though, and I either have to wait for him to return or go across the canyon after him. The various other guides are all engaged, though, so I'll have to go alone. I know it is dangerous, but if the spirits are just, they will not have let me come so far only to fail now. I will set out at once. With luck, my long search will soon be over and the two of us can go home together._

There the journal ended and the sound as the guide closed its worn pages fell heavily on his heart. He'd never know what brought Xu Tong out here, what had changed in the village. He only knew that he could never go back. Xu Tong had probably misunderstood everything and taken matters into his own hands, as was his way. The guide slept and dreamed of home, but the morning sun found him already well on his way, without a backwards glance. He had to start thinking of the next trip across the canyon and the one after that and the one after that. That was his life. It was better not to remember a time when it had not been that way. It was better not even to think of the name he used to wear proudly. People called him the canyon guide and so he was. So he would always be until one day, it would be someone else finding him, alone on the desolate waste, and no one would know what had brought him there. The borderlands were a place of forgetting.


End file.
